You're All I Want for Christmas
by PeaceLoveBeatles18
Summary: Set in the timeline of my story, "Life is What Happens". John and Paul are about to spend their first Christmas together as a 'married' couple. All does not go as planned, but that's okay. (Loosely based upon my own Christmas endeavors this year and Irving Berlin's song with the same title as above. NOT a songfic)


**A/N: Merry (late) Christmas, everyone! I had this all written up on Christmas, but life sort of happened... Anyway, here I am again with a little one-shot about our favorite boys and their first Christmas as a married couple. It's sort of like an extra scene from my completed story, Life is What Happens. Not necessary to read that first if you'd like to read this.**

**This isn't a songfic, per say, but I was inspired to write it by Irving Berlin's amazing song, "You're All I Want for Christmas."**

**Enjoy!**

**John's POV (December 24th 1964)**

Cold wind nipped at my nose as I stood outside Abbey Road Studios, waiting for Paul. He said he had some business to take care of before we left, but he wouldn't be long. I jammed my hands into the pockets of my coat. Fifteen minutes seemed to me to be verging on 'taking a long time'. Especially in this sort of cold. Wriggling my frozen toes in my shoes, I looked up at the sky. It was a flat grey color that suggested snow was imminent.

"Finished!" Paul's voice preceded him out the door. He stepped out, his coat buttoned up as far as it would go and a thick scarf wrapped around his neck. "Sorry about that, we had some weird problems crop up with the audio. Quick fix though, thankfully."

I watched him walk toward me and kept my arms crossed in an irritated way. I wasn't nearly as annoyed as I made myself out to be. Paul, for some reason I had yet to unearth, was almost impossible to stay cross with for any length of time. But he was amusing when he thought I wasn't happy with him. He noticed my stance and deflated a bit, his shoulders hunching in concern.

"Something wrong, John?" he asked tentatively as we walked the short distance to his car and got in. We were going to my flat, but Paul wasn't the biggest fan of my driving skills. Or rather, blatant lack thereof as he complained whenever I got behind the wheel.

"I'm just cold is all," I said, purposefully in the sort of tone that indicated there was more to it than met the eye.

His eyes acquired a concerned look bordering on panicking and I nearly lost my resolve. "Oh God, John, I'm so sorry," he said, the words tumbling forth in a rush. "I didn't mean for it to take that long, a load of things just popped up at the last moment and I kept trying to finish and- why are you laughing?"

Midway through his babbling apology, I had lost it. With a snort, I doubled up laughing. I couldn't help it; he looked so sincerely worried that I had been frozen beyond repair. It was one of the many things I loved about him. He was a worrier, through and through, and it was endearing.

"Sorry Paul," I managed to say through my guffaws, "but you really ought to hear yourself right now."

His nose scrunched up in offense. "What do you mean? I was just apologizing for leaving you waiting..."

"And I'm really not all that cold," I said, overlapping his talking. "I'm not cross, either."

An eye roll was aimed pointedly in my direction. "You bugger, you were having me on!" he accused, slapping at my arm with one hand while his other stayed on the wheel.

"Course I was," I replied, catching his hand for an instant and rubbing my thumb across his knuckles. "I can't help it, you're just too damn cute when you get worried."

He gave me a mock-scowl. "Oh, thanks very much for that. I'm glad my low moments bring you such entertainment."

I grinned at him, pulling my ring from the inner pocket of my jacket and sliding it on my finger. "But you are! Your nose gets all wrinkled up. I'm not angry because I'm not too cold, and I know I'll be warming up as soon as we get inside, anyway." My voice dropped to a low purr. I believe we were still in what might be 'the honeymoon phase'. Add to the fact that we hardly saw each other as much as we would like or need and well... I'll leave it there, shall I?

A deep blush seeped into his complexion. "I'm driving, John," he protested, his voice growing husky, "and unless you want me to crash the car I think you might want to be quiet for a few minutes."

_Mission accomplished_, I thought, smirking to myself. Our first 'married' Christmas was setting up to be very interesting...

Once we got into my flat and shut the door behind us, Paul encircled my waist with his arms from behind. He sighed contently. "I'm starved," he said. "You've got the turkey on the counter, right?"

I froze; had I left the turkey out to thaw? I had left in such a hurry that morning... Was it still in the freezer? "Hold on a mo'," I said, running into the kitchen and letting out a groan of dismay as soon as I was in view of the counters. No turkey. _Damn_.

"John, everything all right?" Paul called, following me into the kitchen.

"I left the damn turkey in the freezer," I said, turning to him and burying my face in his shoulder. I had one job; Paul was even going to put it in the oven and cook it. How had I managed to screw that up?

"Don't worry about it," he said, kissing my cheek. "We've still got the potatoes and vegetables that we can bake..." He trailed off, taking his turn to drop his forehead against my shoulder. "The potatoes and vegetables that I left by the sink in my kitchen," he finished, tipping his head back and staring at the ceiling. A heavy breath escaped his lips.

The perfect Christmas dinner I had planned to have with my husband of only one and a half months was slipping down the drain. I couldn't remember the last time I asked to have groceries brought to my flat. I spent so little time there, it was never all that prominent in my mind. I had some bread, some jam, some tea, and a half-gone box of cornflakes. Not exactly what you might call a grand Christmas dinner. I relayed to him what meager food lay in my cupboards.

"Well, we can have breakfast for dinner, then," he suggested, moving into the kitchen. I watched him pull bowls from the cupboards, a pair of spoons from the drawers, a carton of milk, and the box of cornflakes. My admiration for the man who had so suddenly and totally captured my heart grew to a level I didn't even know was possible. Anyone else would have been at least a little frustrated. But not Paul. Not my Paul.

I smiled, wandering into the kitchen with him. When he went past me to put the milk back in the refrigerator, I caught him by the waist and pulled him against my chest. I plucked the carton of milk out of his hands and set it on the counter behind me. He made a small noise of protest.

"John, what are you doing?" he asked with a laugh. Turning in my arms, he looked into my eyes with a bemused expression.

"Do you have any idea how much you amaze me?" I asked, kissing his forehead gently.

"What, with my stunning looks?" he joked, pressing his face into my neck and pressing a line of kisses from my jaw to my collarbone. I sighed at the contact, feeling my eyes flutter shut. There was a definite want in me to give in to the emotions fluttering through me like electric sparks. However, I resisted. I needed to tell him how much he meant to me.

"Well yes, but that's not what I'm talking about," I said, my hands tracing circles on his back.

"What is it, then?" Paul asked.

"Just... All of you." I couldn't think of an adequate response that would voice exactly how I saw him every single day.

"All of me?"

"Even when everything seems to be going wrong, you keep going. Our entire dinner is either frozen or in the wrong kitchen and we're eating cornflakes. And yet, you're standing in front of me, still with that grin on your face."

"John," he murmured, his hands coming up to cradle my face. "The dinner was never overly important to me. I mean, being with you is, and that's the only part I care about. We could be eating the greasiest fish and chips you could imagine in the dingiest diner in all of England, and I wouldn't care. Know why?" He paused.

"Why?" I prompted, leaning in for a quick, gentle kiss.

He smiled and I felt my brain fizz and short-circuit. "Because you're all I want for Christmas, and in fact, you're all I'll ever want for Christmas. It's a day for being with the ones you love and adore, and feeling loved. And if that's the case... Every day with you is a bit like Christmas, isn't it?"

I suddenly found it was impossible to speak, so I captured his lips with a passionate kiss that I hoped would convey all I could not say.

When it finally ended, Paul put his mouth next to my ear. "Happy Christmas," he breathed.

And it was.

**A/N: D'awww, wasn't that cute? I'm thinking of doing a sort of "McLennon holidays" series of one-shots. Good idea? Bad idea? Let me know!**


End file.
